The Missing Horcrux
by Dark-Adriah-Rose
Summary: What happens when Harry misses a horcrux and doesn't kill Voldemort at the battle of Hogwarts? How will the order survive? What will the consequences of a continued war be? And what secret is Hermione hiding? A dark story of war and what could have happened if things had turned out wrong at Hogwarts. H/HR. defected Draco, rated for language, violence and possible adult themes


**Authors note:**

I wanted to write a much darker story about Harry Potter. I just don't think J.K. Rowling portrayed the war right… To me, war is full of darkness and despair…. And death. It definitely ended too quickly!

This is my first story ever, so please cut me some slack but also reviews and constructive criticism are certainly welcome! Enjoy :)

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me, sadly :(

**I could just sleep and then I'd dream**

"_Not my daughter you bitch!" Molly Weasley screamed as she shoved Ginny out of the way of a killing curse. Curse after curse flew out of her wand, fuelled by her blind rage. Bellatrix was forced backwards, snarling as she put all her effort into standing her ground. _

_The matriarch of the Weasley family was a competent dueller, but she lacked the true heart for fighting. With an overwhelming need to protect her only daughter she held Bellatrix well, but it wouldn't last. She wasn't protecting her sides. Across the Great Hall, Voldemort had noticed the fight, and with a well placed killing curse Molly Weasley lay on the floor with a permanent look of shock plastered to her face. _

_Cold laughter sounded, and then a scream of rage as Harry blew Yaxley to pieces, racing to duel Voldemort. 'Expelliarmus!' he cried just as Voldemort threw another Avada toward him. The two jets of light collided and Hermione thought for a second that that was oddly beautiful… _

_Harry overpowered Voldemort with ease, catching the elder wand as it flew toward him and Voldemort fell to his knees. His laugh was vaguely similar to Voldermort's as he explained, "you see Tom, the Wand belongs to me. Draco disarmed Dumbledore on the tower that night and I recently disarmed Draco. Puts a flaw in your plan doesn't it? This is for my family! And for all the others you've killed, you sick bastard! Avada Kedavra!"_

_The green light hit just above where his heart should have been, yet… Nothing happened. Voldemort slowly stood, a terrifyingly human smile on his face as he sneered "how unfortunate Potter, it seems you missed one. Expulso!" _

"Harry!"

Hermione awoke violently, shaking free of the hands that were holding her down.

"Get off of me! Let me go!" she screamed, wriggling loose of the hands and retreating to the corner of her soft double bed. Wait.. A bed? Why was she in a bed?

"'Mione it's me, I'm right here," Harry grabbed at her hand, "Please be quiet you're screaming bloody murder, you're gonna wake the whole house up."

"Harry?" her voice was hoarse like she hadn't spoken in days. How long had she been asleep for?

As though he could read her mind Harry spoke. "You've been out for four days 'Mione. We lost the battle but you managed to apparate us here when I… Well let's just say I'm healed now, and we're safe. Or most of us are…" He trailed off, a pained expression on his face and avoided her eyes.

"We're safe? Ron?"

Her words were all uttered in a strangled whisper and Harry wordlessly passed her a glass of water laced with a dreamless sleep potion. She wasn't supposed to be talking yet, the healer had said she wouldn't even be awake by now, but it was Hermione, she was a fighter. Too bad, she needed her sleep, no matter how much Harry needed her awake.

"Yeah, we're safe. We're at Grimmauld place," Harry answered, softly.

Hermione's eyes flashed with panic and her mouth formed a little 'o' as she collapsed back into a sleeping position on the bed. Harry gave her hand a comforting squeeze. "It's okay 'Mione, Flitwick renewed the fidelius charm and we're in the new Order hideout now."

"Oh… Order hideout" Hermione mumbled, her eyelids fluttering closed against her will as the potion took effect. Her hand fell limp in Harry's and he retracted his, sighing, before walking out of the room.

He made his way to the kitchen, passing heads of previous house elves on the walls and shuddering. _Those will have to be dealt with_, he thought, _I'll get Kreacher onto it in the morning. _Sitting at the dining room table Harry let his mind wander to darker places.

It was three am and the order was sleeping, or… The survivors, that is. How had they missed a hocrux? Even Dumbledore had been sure when they had spoken that this was the end. This was supposed to be the end! The battle of Hogwarts should never have failed. So many… Countless were dead and all for nothing.

No, not for nothing. Three horcruxes were destroyed; the diadem, the snake and Harry. But one was left, and Harry had no clue where it could be hidden or even what it could be, and so many were dead…

A muffled cry of anguish tore from his throat as he thought of Mrs. Weasley, Fred, Cho, Hagrid, Lavender… The deaths he had been conscious for replayed in his mind while he fabricated horrific scenarios for the others, each more terrible than the last. He felt himself losing control, slamming the table with his fist so hard his knuckles began to bleed.

"Fuck!"

Everyone had been so quiet since the battle – Ron, Ginny, Neville – intentionally trying to keep talk of death, causes of death, out of Harry's ears in some desperate attempt to stop him being guilty. It was fucking pointless from Harry's point of view, he needed to feel at least somewhat guilty, or he wouldn't be human would he? What he really needed, as he kept telling Ron, was to talk about it all. But Ron wasn't in the mood for talking… He hadn't been into the mood for anything since Mrs. Weasley and Fred, rather throwing himself forcefully into any job the order had for him.

If Hermione were awake, he could talk to her. He fondly remembered the rants she'd have when they were back at school about opening up and letting emotions out. Not bottling shit up. Muggle psychology 101, according to her.

Determinedly ripping himself out of melancholy at the thought of Hermione and her very close encounter with death, he pulled a blue notebook (a gift from Hermione two Christmases ago) and a muggle pen from his pocket.

He was making no progress by feeling sorry for himself or dwelling on the past. This was looking to be a long war now and it was essential to be prepared, so Harry sat up a little straighter and began listing possible places to hide a horcrux.

**Authors note:**

Okay, so that's the first chapter! Any advice would be welcome… Please review! :)


End file.
